


Episode 5: Monster Movie

by inkandpaperqwerty



Series: Bright Smiles and Bloody Lips [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amusement Parks, Childhood Trauma, Conflict Resolution, Conflicted Castiel, Dean Winchester Tries, Episode: s04e05 Monster Movie, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guilty Dean Winchester, He Knows Trivia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Nerd Dean Winchester, Original Character(s), Parental Dean Winchester, Parental Sam Winchester, Past Domestic Violence, Roller Coasters, Sam Winchester Has Patience, Sam Winchester Tries, Sam Winchester is a Saint, Season/Series 04, Single Parent Sam Winchester, Uncle Dean Winchester, Understanding Sam Winchester, Wanting-To-Fix-Everything Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 15:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpaperqwerty/pseuds/inkandpaperqwerty
Summary: "Dean expected Sam to find a way to cope after he was dragged to Hell. By no means did he, even for a moment, think Sam might look to parenting as a coping mechanism."Dean's solution to the recent conflict is a trip to an amusement park, but first they have to stop by an Oktoberfest and see if the alleged vampire attacks are their kind of monster or not. Of course, there's that little bit where Liam refuses to speak or engage in general. There's also that little bit where Sam and Dean are pretending the demon blood thing never happened. Oh, and the angels. Can't forget about the angels.But hey, there's going to be fattening food and carnival rides. That makes it a good day, right?





	Episode 5: Monster Movie

“Come on, Sammy, work with me here. If you’re wrong, we gank the vamp. If you’re right, it’ll turn out to be nothing, and we can drive a few more hours to Knoebels. Take a day off, ride some roller coasters and stuff. Either way, it works out.”

Sam glanced at Dean and then looked over his shoulder at the backseat. “Do you like roller coasters, Liam?”

Liam shrugged, staring out the window with his chin in his hand. Just like he had been doing for the past hour of the drive. He didn’t want his new pillow, his new blanket, or his new stuffed kitten. He just sat there and stared, perpetually silent, expression somber.

“Well, do you want to check it out?” Sam only pressed because he knew Dean was trying really hard to bridge the gap they had created. “It won’t just be roller coasters. They have lots of fun rides at Knoebels, and maybe we could get some funnel cake and cotton candy and other carnival food. What do you say?”

Liam just shrugged again. He hadn’t said a word since they left the warehouse three days earlier, and other than the incoherent ramblings he uttered between nightmares, he showed no signs of changing his tune.

“I’d like to go, if it’s okay with you.” Sam wet his lips, trying to convince himself things hadn’t been damaged beyond repair. “Would that be alright, Liam?”

Liam didn’t respond at first, but when he did, it was a nod instead of a shrug.

 _Good. That’s progress. That’s… that’s something._ Sam let out a breath and faced forward, fixing his gaze on the road while his mind wandered away.

Three days of rumination later, and Sam still didn’t know what to do about the demon blood. Two voicemails from Ruby later, and he still had no idea what to tell her. Hundreds of sideways looks, tense interactions, and awkward silences later, and he still hadn’t talked to Dean about the elephant in the Impala.

“So…” Dean cleared his throat. “Find a place to stay, and then… hit up the morgue, or the police station first?”

Sam wet his lips and tried not to sigh, feeling painfully helpless and very much like they were wasting time. “Uh, morgue first. If we can look at the victim’s neck, we might be able to rule out vampires without having to talk to anyone.”

Dean nodded a few times, keeping his eyes on the road. “Okay. Cool. Sounds good.”

Sam nodded in return, also keeping his eyes on the road. “Yup. Cool.”

They fell into another awkward silence.

Sam felt a headache creeping in behind his eyes, and he massaged the bridge of his nose with a sigh. _Is it a demon blood hangover or stress?_ He let out a moan before he could stop himself, the painful throb accentuated by the lack of distractions in the car. _Knowing my luck, it’s both._

“Hey, you okay?”

Sam rubbed his face and then blinked a few times, but the pain didn’t let up. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Dean side-eyed him up and down suspiciously, but he ultimately nodded. “Okay. You want me to check out the morgue solo while you take a nap?”

Sam shook his head, rubbed his face again, and ran his hands through his hair. “No, no, I’m good. I’m good.”

Dean gave him another sidelong glance but once again let the subject drop.

Sam went back to staring out the window, equally silent.

Liam was still sitting in the backseat, his position unchanged, refusing to acknowledge the world around him.

* * *

“Okay, buddy, we’re gonna head out. Keep your phone with you and call us if you need anything, alright?”

Dean hung back while Sam handled the goodbyes, arms crossed over his chest, as if that could keep out the guilt. _I did this. Me and my hot head._

“One of us will always have our cell phone turned up loud, so if one of us doesn’t answer, call the other one.” Sam paused, but he got no reaction. “Okay, Liam?”

Liam was laying on his side facing away from them, curled up on the motel bed. He nodded, silent, and continued to stare at the air conditioning unit.

Sam let out a soft sigh and rose from his kneeling position on the floor. “Okay.” He turned to Dean with a helpless expression and a slight hunch to his shoulders. “Uh… let’s go, I guess.”

Dean nodded wordlessly and stepped out, waiting for Sam to walk through and then locking the door behind them. He barely got the key out of the hole before he was striding down the hall, shifting his brain into hunt mode as quickly as he could.

“Dean…”

“Don’t.” Dean kept his voice hard and cold.

Sam took a deep breath. “He’s mad at both of us, Dean. It’s not your f—”

“I said _don’t_.” They were almost to the end of the hall; if Dean could just get outside, he could drag Sam into hunt mode with him, and the conversation would be over.

“I just tho—”

Dean whirled on the spot, hissing out a low reply. “You weren’t the one throwing punches, Sam, and you aren’t the one he can barely look at, so _don’t_.” He turned back around and continued down the hall. “Come on. Let’s go catch a cliché.”

Sam followed him with a small sigh, resisting the change of subject for all of three seconds before surrendering. “Right. We, uh, we decided on the morgue first, right?”

Dean nodded sharply.

Sam was silent.

* * *

“How are you not freaking out right now?” Dean gripped the wheel a little tighter and ran another red light, silently forbidding every cop under the moon from pulling him over.

“I _am_ freaking out.” Sam held onto the door, leaning into the window as Dean hit the curve way too fast. “But I think he’s testing us, so I’m trying _not_ to freak out.”

“Testing us? What, is he checking our, our, our freakin’ _response_ time?” Dean hit a stretch of open road and floored it, thankful they were almost there. “Trying to find out if he’s more important than the job? We’ve only been away for a couple hours!”

“Trying to see what we’ll do when we’re angry.”

That actually gave Dean pause, though his speed didn’t decrease at all. _Great. I scared him so bad he’s doing field tests on my anger management._

“I told you, Dean, we _both_ freaked him out.” It was like Sam could read Dean’s mind. “He’s refusing to answer _our_ calls because he wants to see what _we_ will do when we’re angry.” Sam fell into the door again as Dean slid into the parking lot. “It's—oof—easy to tell Liam we’re not gonna hurt him when he’s being good, and it’s easy to say we’re sorry when we don’t like the consequences, but that doesn’t make it true. He’s creating a situation where violence is the natural, instinctual response to see what we do.”

Dean threw the car in park and opened his door, snorting. “Kid’s too smart for his own good.” He started to walk—run, really—to their room, trying to calm himself without forgetting the importance of Liam always, _always_ answering the phone, because otherwise, they would assume he was _dying_. Or worse.

“All kids will test you on some level, but kids with his background will be a bit extreme about it.” Sam was half a step behind Dean, his outward calm doing nothing to slow his footsteps. “Bottom line, we gotta be really careful about how we do this.”

‘If this really is a test, and I desperately hope it is,’ went unsaid, but Dean heard it just the same. They would both prefer Liam testing them over the plethora of alternatives.

“Got it.” Dean pulled his key from his pocket and shoved it in the hole, wrenching the door open and pushing it in. “Liam!”

Liam was sitting on one of the beds, propped up against the headboard and watching TV with his cell phone siting right next to him. He looked at them, bored and blinking lazily.

Dean was hit with a flood of relief followed immediately by a flood of anger.

 _Keep your cool, keep your cool…_ Dean cleared his throat and turned toward the kitchenette, covering his mouth and waving for Sam to take the lead. _Because if I speak, I will probably tell him he’s dead and grounded for life and dead._

“Liam, why didn’t you answer your phone?” Sam, ever the lawyer, calmly asked questions he already knew the answer to. “Didn’t you know we would be worried about you?”

Liam only shrugged, looking back at the television and turning it up.

Sam walked over and carefully took Liam’s wrist in one hand, gently working the remote out of his grasp with the other. “Liam, this is very serious. Do you understand?”

Liam only shrugged again, staring at the TV.

Sam clicked it off and set the remote aside, crouching by the bed and prodding Liam’s shoulder to get his attention. “Hey. Can you look at me?”

Liam shook his head, folding his arms over his stomach and glaring angrily at the mattress.

Sam conceded, holding up his hands in a silent show of surrender. “Okay. Then I just want you to listen.” He took a deep breath, still overwhelmingly calm.

Dean could practically feel the veins in his forehead bursting. Why did he always have to get angry for the both of them?

“Liam, if you don’t answer the phone, Dean and I are going to assume something really, really bad is happening to you. We thought someone was in here trying to hurt you.” Sam nudged Liam’s arm again. “Liam, are you listening?”

Liam shook his head, rolling away from Sam and staring at the wall.

“Okay.” Dean walked away from the kitchen sink and crossed the room. “Sit up.”

Sam turned slightly and held up a hand. “Dean, don’t—”

“Hey.” Dean gave Sam a look. “Trust me.” _Please._

Sam looked at him for a moment, and then he nodded and moved away, sitting on the remaining bed and letting Dean take the lead.

“Sit up, Liam, and look at me.”

Liam didn’t, of course. He stared at the wall, pretending he hadn’t heard. So, Dean grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him up, putting Liam on his hip and ignoring the attempts to turn away.

“This works, too.” Dean didn’t care if Liam wouldn’t look at him, he was too close for Dean not to feel when his attention had wandered. “I know you’re—woah!” He jerked back, not quite able to miss the elbow aimed at his face.

“Dean, are you okay?”

Dean turned Liam around so his back was against Dean’s chest, and then he wrapped one arm around Liam’s thighs, the other winding around his midsection. Liam flailed his arms, successfully landing another hit to Dean’s face, but Dean grabbed the offending limb with the hand of the arm he had wrapped around Liam’s middle. It was somewhat awkward, but it was effective nonetheless.

Liam grunted and whined, squirming and kicking and trying to hit with the arm he still had free. He wasn’t quite crying, and he still wasn’t talking, but he was struggling hard.

“That’s okay. Go ahead and throw your fit. I’ll wait.” Dean licked his lips and tasted blood, but he simply wiped his mouth on his shoulder and continued to hold Liam in place. “We’re just gonna stand here for a little while, you and me.”

Liam kept squirming and making noise, but he was eerily quiet throughout the ordeal. It was nothing like the unholy bedlam from the warehouse or the uncontrollable responses to his night terrors. It was… weak and defeated, but persistent, like a mewling kitten after hours of being ignored.

“You tired yet?” Dean looked down at Liam, but all he saw was a red face with eyes screwed shut and more wiggling movement. Dean let out a sigh. “That’s a no.”

Dean continued to stand in place, and while he refused to bounce like many parents did with their unhappy offspring, he did rock back and forth _slightly._ He made eye contact with Sam—who was still outwardly expressing the patience of a saint—and was hit with a rush of frustration that made him want to use more of a ‘tough love’ method. Honestly, Liam was twelve, and that was way too old to be throwing these kinds of fits. Sam was encouraging the behavior, and Dean was letting him.

But his irritation didn’t last.

Because how was Liam supposed to know any better? Dean had learned anger management from John. If Dean had thrown himself on the ground while screaming or refused to answer calls from his dad, he would have gotten a tongue-lashing and then some, but _also_ a solution.

 _“Take this,”_ John would say, handing him a baseball bat and directing him to a rotted stump, _“and don’t come back until you stop picturing your brother’s head instead of the tree.”_

It might not have been the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was _something._ Based on what little Dean knew about Liam’s upbringing, he got the idea that angry outbursts were met with increasingly violent and explosive outbursts of a more adult variety. Even if Liam had encountered calmer reactions in the years he spent out of his home, how was he supposed to undo a decade of one lifestyle with two years of another? Most _adults_ would have trouble breaking that kind of habit, never mind a twelve-year-old boy who could barely process anything beyond the moment he was in.

“You done yet?”

Liam was still squirming in Dean’s arms, but he wasn’t making noise anymore, and his struggles were growing weaker. He scratched at Dean’s arm with his free hand, crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks, but his fingernails weren’t long enough to do any damage.

“Good. Now, I need you to listen.” Dean paused briefly, glancing at Sam with a silent ‘don’t let me screw this up’ in his eyes, and then he spoke. “I know you’re mad at us, especially at me, and you’ve got every right to be. I screwed up.”

“ _We_ screwed up,” Sam corrected, giving Dean a hard look.

Dean pressed his lips together. “Right. We screwed up.” He shifted Liam’s weight a little, catching a glimpse of shining, blue eyes before Liam turned his head to look down at the floor. “You ever heard of cutting off your nose to spite your face?”

Liam sniffed and shook his head, trying to turn over in Dean’s arms with a quiet whine.

“Well,” Dean started, hauling Liam into an upright position and not speaking again until the boy was settled against his chest. “Pretend you don’t like the way your face looks. You get mad at your face for looking bad, and to get back at it, you cut off your nose. Is that gonna make your face look better?”

Liam was still for a moment, and then he shook his head, pressing himself against Dean and tucking his chin over the older Winchester’s shoulder.

“No, it makes your face look worse. It definitely doesn’t make you _feel_ better, ‘cause cutting off your nose would hurt like a bi—scuit.” Dean tossed Sam a middle finger behind Liam’s back, not needing to look to know there was some kind of mocking expression on Sam’s face. “So, if you wanna get back at us, that’s okay with me. But don’t do something that could hurt _you,_ okay? Because even if you’re mad at us, we still care about you a whole lot, and we want you to be safe. If you don’t answer when we call, we won’t know if you’re safe and you won’t be able to tell us if you need help.”

Liam whined, squirming for a moment and then pushing away from Dean slightly. “Don’ care.” He sniffed, rootsing around in Dean’s arms and trying to get away with as little conviction as possible. “Lea’ me alone.”

Dean shook his head, but he met Sam’s eyes, and there was a mutual spark, a silent fist-pump. Despite the negative words, Liam was talking, and it made the situation seem a little less hopeless.

“Can’t do that, Lee.” Dean rubbed Liam’s back _._ “See, Sammy and I… we love you too much to leave you alone.”

Liam pressed his forehead against Dean’s shoulder and shook his head, emitting a collection of noises that ranged anywhere from angry to desperate.

“Come on, buddy. Talk to us.”

Liam sniffed and let out a few sobs. “Wan’ Sam.”

It felt like a slap to the face, but it was still an improvement, so Dean approached Sam and let Liam clamber from one set of arms to the other.

Dean took a step back and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. _I should go. He might talk to Sam if I’m not here._ Dean moved toward the door, but he made it no more than four steps when Liam’s voice stopped him.

“Don’ go.” Liam curled up in Sam’s lap, dropping his head onto Sam’s shoulder with a sniff. He didn’t say anything else, choosing instead to whine quietly and let Sam finish the request.

“He needs to be able to see you,” Sam explained, turning slightly so he could see Dean. “He has to be able to find you from wherever he is and get there quickly.” Sam rubbed Liam’s back, and it occurred to Dean that he really had no idea just how well the two knew each other.

 _No wonder he wanted Sammy. I’m practically a stranger._ Dean stepped away from the door and sat down at the kitchen table. He considered getting a beer, but the last thing he wanted was Liam thinking Dean was going to get wasted and start throwing punches again.

“Dee…” Liam reached a hand out toward Dean, whining discontinuously but not saying anything else.

Dean looked at Sam, confused, but slowly got up from the table. “Uh, right here, buddy.”

Sam motioned for Dean to come closer, repeating the gesture until Dean was sitting next to him on the bed, at which point Liam reached out and grabbed a fistful of Dean’s jacket.

“Sometimes when he gets really upset, he goes kinda non-verbal.” Sam rubbed Liam’s back as he spoke, indicating the jumbled noises with a nod of his head. “He just needs some time to process before he can start getting his words out. Right, buddy?”

Liam nodded tearfully, staring up at Dean with imploring blue eyes and a wobbly lip.

Dean tried to flash a quick smile, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was; it felt more like a grimace. “That’s fine with me, man. Take your time.”

Liam held on tight to Dean’s jacket, but he didn’t do anything else. Dean was fine with that, too. He figured Liam would make noise if he wanted something, and Sam would translate that noise and tell Dean. Until Dean got specific instructions to do otherwise, he was going to sit quietly and let Liam do what Liam needed to do.

Liam kept his chin on Sam’s shoulder, sniffles and hiccups racking his little body. He had Dean’s jacket in a white-knuckle grip. Every few seconds, he turned his head to make sure Sam was still there, as if Sam might have slipped out from underneath him without him noticing. His other hand was clutching Sam’s flannel, his knees were on either side of Sam’s lap, and every now and then, he would push forward and pull on their clothes, holding himself against Sam as tightly as he could, like he couldn’t get close enough, like the very air in the room was trying to hurt him.

Dean reached up and placed his hand over the one on his jacket. “I’m _so_ sorry, Lee.”

Liam hiccupped and pulled on Dean a little. “I know.” He sniffed. “M’sorry, Dee.”

Dean felt his lips twitch into the lightest of smiles. “I know you are, buddy.”

Liam stared up at him with impossibly blue eyes, wide and tearful and trained on Dean’s mouth. “S’it hurt?”

Dean waved it off, and he almost dropped a Batman line, but he thought better of it in the end. “Nah. Just cut my lips a little on the inside.” _Keep it simple and straightforward._ “Nothing bruised, nothing broken. It’s all good.”

Liam looked at Dean a little while longer, seeming unconvinced, and then he turned his head to look at Sam. “M’sorry, Sam.”

“I know, Liam. I forgive you.” Sam kissed the side of his head—the only part he could really reach—and rubbed Liam’s back. “Do you understand why we need you to answer your phone when we call?”

Liam nodded, hiccupped, and rubbed his eyes and nose on Sam’s shirt.

“Can you tell me? Or are you still having some word trouble?” Sam rubbed Liam’s back again, and Dean found himself absentmindedly thumbing the back of Liam’s hand.

Liam only whined, shaking his head slightly.

“That’s okay.” Sam hushed him. “We can talk about it when your words come back.”

Dean flashed Liam a quick, encouraging smile and let Sam take over again, sitting there with his hand over Liam’s, waiting to see what would happen.

“Dean, I think Liam and I are just gonna chill for a while.” That meant Sam was going to try and get Liam calm enough to talk, go to sleep, or both. “If you want to go meet up with Jamie…”

It took a second for the wires to connect. “Crap! I completely forgot.”

“Well, of course you did. Liam makes everyone else very forgettable by comparison.” Sam smiled, poking Liam’s back as he spoke.

Liam smiled for the first time in almost four days. It was weak and tired and dampened with tears, but it was a smile.

Dean smiled back. “I’ll give her a call. Tell her I can’t make it.”

Liam frowned and shook his head, his grip on Dean’s jacket turning into a push. “Go.”

“It’s alright, Lee. There will be other girls.” Dean reached out and tried not to react when Liam flinched back, calmly closing the distance and running his fingers through the messy, red hair. “I’ll stay home tonight.”

Liam shook his head again, more determined than before. “Go, Dee.”

Dean looked to Sam for help. Was this another test? Was he trying to see how easy it was to make Dean walk away? Did he want to be alone with Sam? Was he still too scared of Dean to have him around while he was trying to calm down?

Sam smiled encouragingly and nodded toward the door. “Go have fun, Dean. We aren’t going anywhere. We’ll be right here when you come back.”

Dean looked at them for a long time, but Sam’s expression was sincere, and after Sam indicated the door a second time, Dean relented. “Okay.” He slowly stood up, Liam’s hand falling from his chest, and he gave the auburn hair another ruffle. “I won’t be out all night, I promise.”

Liam nodded somberly, but he didn’t seem too upset, so Dean slowly made his way to the door. He stopped again, met Liam’s eyes, and gave him a quick wave and a smile.

Liam returned the wave but added a shooing motion on the end. “ _Go,_ Dee.”

Dean flashed another smile and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him.

_This is good, right? He’s talking a little, Sam got a smile out of him, he let me touch his head… this is good. I’m pretty sure this is good. I’m like… seventy-two percent sure this is good._

It had to be. If it wasn’t, it meant things weren’t getting better, and that was Dean’s fault. Dean couldn’t handle many more things being his fault.

He just couldn’t.

* * *

“Oof. Kid, if I go on one more ride that moves in a circular direction, I’m gonna blow chunks.” Dean pressed a hand to his stomach and groaned theatrically. “Can we sit down for a while? Maybe get some Dippin’ Dots?”

Liam cocked his head to one side. “What’re Dippin’ Dots?”

Dean gasped. “What are Dippin’ Dots? Only the most magical junk food ever created!” He placed a hand on the center of Liam’s back—something that didn’t seem to scare Liam like a touch to the head or shoulder did—and pushed Liam through the small crowd toward the colorful little stand. “Dippin’ Dots are the ice cream of the future.”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed loudly, strolling along behind them with a well-stuffed backpack, a regularly-stuffed dolphin, a bag of kettle corn, candied pecans, and a half-eaten funnel cake. “Maybe we should finish some of these snacks before we get new ones?”

Dean contemplated the idea for all of three seconds. “Nah.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pointed to the menu. “Alright, buddy. Pick what you want.”

Liam looked between Sam and Dean for a moment, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Is it okay, Sorzie?”

Sam smiled. “I was just teasing, Liam. It’s okay to be a little wasteful on special occasions.”

Liam looked at Dean then, as if Dean suggesting the treat in the first place wasn’t permission enough. Which, knowing Liam, it probably wasn’t.

Dean smiled and nodded, pointing to the menu again and feeling a twinge in his shoulder. _Still sore from fighting the shapeshifter._ “Go ahead and pick something, kiddo.” _I’m getting too old for this._

Liam turned his attention to the list of flavors and started reading through the options. “Hmm…” He looked over the counter. “Excuse me?”

“What’s up, sweetie?” the cashier asked, folding her tattoo-sleeved arms on the countertop.

Liam reached up and tugged his hair a few times. “What does Rainbow Ice taste like?”

“Mm, it’s sorta like those freeze pops that, uh—” she held her hands out to demonstrate, “—come in a sheet of, like, ten tubes.”

Liam nodded. “I know those.”

Snapping her fingers, the girl with the half-shaved head of jet black hair pointed finger guns at him. “Just like those.”

Liam contemplated the sign a moment more. “Which color?”

“Dude, that’s half the magic. I honestly can’t tell.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s like… all of them together, which makes it totally unlike any of them.” She gestured to her cup of miniature spoons. “Do you want to try it to see if you like it?”

“Yes, please!” Liam bounced on his toes slightly, licking his lips as he watched her fetch a spoonful of the treat for him. “Thank you,” he said when she handed it over, and after a quick taste, he was nodding excitedly. “I would like to have that, please.”

“Sure thing.” She smiled widely, showing a hoop in her upper gum. “What size, sweetie?”

“Umm…” Liam turned to look at Sam and Dean with questioning eyes.

Dean gestured to the containers on display. “What are you hungry for, bud?”

Liam looked at the sign, then at Dean, then at the examples, and then at Dean again. “Regular?”

“You got it.” Dean gave him a thumbs up.

Liam turned back around and smiled up at the attendant. “May I have a regular-sized Rainbow Ice, please?”

“With those manners? Absolutely.” She smiled widely and grabbed the appropriate dish, preparing the snack behind the counter as Liam looked on excitedly.

Dean couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride—which made absolutely no sense, because he hadn’t been the one to teach Liam any manners—and when Liam thanked her again for his Dippin’ Dots, he just had to smile.

“Thanks,” Dean reiterated, handing over a ten.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled as she got his change, glancing at Liam. “Kids like him are a real treat. I get a lot more of the screaming, unhappy ones being _appeased_ by ice cream than anything else.”

“Hey.” Dean pointed to her. “It’s not ice cream. It’s Dippin’ Dots.” He grinned and took his change. “But thank you. He’s a great kid. I really can’t take the credit.”

She only smiled again. “You guys have a nice day.”

Sam waved slightly from a few feet away. “Thank you. You, too.”

Liam waved, slightly more enthusiastic, next to Sam. “Bye!”

Dean pocketed his change and caught up with the duo on their way to the picnic tables. “So, did we do everything in this section?”

Sam gestured to the large, yellow mansion behind the Dippin’ Dots stand. “There’s the Haunted House.” He turned to his left, slowly emptying his arms onto the table. “Liam, how do you feel about the Haunted House?”

Liam stopped with his spoon in his mouth, blue eyes wandering over and locking onto the building. He stared for a moment, swallowed, and then looked back at them. “Yeah, we can do that next.”

Sam pursed his lips. “You don’t sound very sure. Do you not want to go?”

Liam shrugged his shoulders, putting more dots in his mouth. “It’s up to you guys.”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, and Dean sat down on the bench across from Liam. “Well, you guys can go, but if it’s alright with you, I’m gonna wait out here.”

Liam frowned slightly, confusion clear on his face. “Why?”

“Well, I might be a monster hunter, but the Haunted House has this part near the end where you’re going down a tunnel, and all of a sudden there’s headlights and a loud horn, and it looks like a big truck is gonna hit you, and…” Dean shrugged his shoulders dismissively. “I just don’t like it.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned, sitting down next to Dean. “Well, I was actually going to ask _you_ to take Liam because I don’t like the buzzer noises.”

Liam looked between the two of them, struck momentarily speechless. He swallowed his mouthful of dots, chewed on his lip for a second, and then softly said, “I don’t wanna go in the Haunted House. I know you guys can protect me, but… it still scares me. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Sam smiled warmly. “It’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to go, Liam. Thank you for being honest with us, even though it was kind of embarrassing.”

Dean pressed one hand to his stomach and held the other up. “But seriously, no more spinny rides for a little bit.”

Liam giggled and shoved another spoonful of Dippin’ Dots into his mouth. “Can we go on the Phoenix again?”

Dean grinned. “Now, _that’s_ an idea I can get behind.”

Liam laughed again and got back to eating, rocking slightly on his seat, as if dancing to a song in his head. “Thank you for my Dippin’ Dots, Dean. They’re really good.”

“You’re welcome, Lee.” Dean flashed a grin. He would be getting his own dish later, probably right before going on one of the calmer rides to end out the trip. _Oh, yeah. It’s gonna be great._

And after the week Dean had had, he deserved it. They all did.

Sighing contentedly, Dean leaned back against a nearby tree and smirked at Sam. “You gotta learn to sit strategically, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned so he was straddling his half of the bench and leaning against the table. “Yah-huh. You totally didn’t luck into that spot. I mean, it’s not like Liam picked the table.”

Dean only smiled, folding his arms over his chest and taking a moment to revel in the atmosphere. Everything in their lives pretty much sucked, especially with the Apocalypse threatening to rain literal Hell down on them, but in that moment, they were just a family enjoying a beautiful autumn day in an amusement park.

It felt nice.

“You know, I really _do_ hate that last part of the ride.” Dean glanced at Liam, but between the allure of food and the noise of the rides and crowds, his attention was otherwise occupied. “I don’t know why. It’s stupid. It’s just a ride, but…” He shrugged, looking back at Sam. “I don’t know. I can’t hunt a truck. I can’t salt and burn accidents. That’s the kinda stuff that scares me. Weird, isn’t it?”

Sam pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s weird. Especially after…” He trailed off, but a shared, split-second look made it clear they were on the same page. “It’s scary.” He nodded a few times, glancing around the park. “I was serious, too. I always hated the buzzers.”

Dean pursed his lips, confused, but he couldn’t very well judge.

Thankfully, Sam explained without any prodding. “I mean, I could still go on it, but… I don’t know. I think it’s because it doesn’t fit, you know? I expect the screams, and the door slams, and the maniacal laughter. I don’t expect some deafening, game-show-buzzer noise to blare in my ear while some ghoul is jumping out at me.”

Dean tilted his head slightly, thought about it for a moment, and eventually nodded. “I can see that. Like when you take a drink, and you’re expecting soda, but it’s iced tea. Even if you love iced tea, it’s so different from what you’re expecting that it tastes nasty.”

Sam pointed to Dean with both hands. “Exactly!” He threw his hands up. “Thank you. I’ve been trying to put that into words for ten years.”

Dean laughed and shook his head, a smile instinctively curling the corner of his mouth when he heard the Phoenix rushing on its tracks. “Hey, here’s something a bet neither of you knew.” He got Liam’s attention and looked at Sam with a wry smile. “My turn to be the nerd.”

Sam quirked a brow but leaned on the table and began nibbling on the leftover funnel cake, clearly interested.

Dean smirked and put his attention back on Liam. “The Phoenix used to be called the Rocket. It was built in 1947 in Texas, and then it was relocated here in 1985 and renamed. They didn’t have any blueprints, so they just labeled all the pieces _on-site_ as they took it apart; then brought it up here and put it back together.” Dean spread his hands slightly, as if weaving a tale far more fantastical than the one actually falling from his lips. “Let me put that in perspective for you, Lee. You know what was invented in 1947? Microwaves. The Phoenix is as old as microwaves; and man, the microwaves they had back then were _way_ different than the ones we have now. But the Phoenix? Nah. It’s exactly the same. Some repairs here and there, sure, and it did get moved that one time, but no changes. So, it’s pretty old, right? Of course, lots of old coasters, some from decades earlier, are still up and running today.” Dean held up a finger and leaned forward slightly, grinning when he saw Liam do the same, anticipation alight in his eyes. “But the Phoenix was rated the third best wooden coaster in the _world_ this year _._ It’s been in the top ten for the past decade, keeping up with and _beating_ the ones made in the early 2000s. It’s a roller coaster classic. It’s roller coaster _legend._ ” Dean leaned back and raised a brow, pointing to the fascinated redhead across from him. “And _you_ went on it three times. Pretty sure that makes you a champion or something.”

Liam stared up at Dean with wide eyes, completely awestruck by the knowledge Dean had bestowed upon him. It seemed almost silly to Dean, but he couldn’t deny how much he loved the look on Liam’s face, and it felt even better knowing he was the one who put it there.

Sam pursed his lips and arched a brow. “That’s… actually pretty awesome.”

“Actually? What do you mean actually? You doubt my trivia skills?” Dean feigned offense, but then he smiled, putting his eyes right back on Liam. “You know, this park opened in 1926. It’s been around a _long_ time.” It had seen a lot. It had flooded a lot, too, as Dean had enthusiastically shared when they passed the various markers in the park.

_“In 1972, when Hurricane Agnes hit, everything flooded so bad that if we had all been right here on the mini-golf course, none of us would have been able to touch the ground. Not even Sammy!”_

Liam hopped up suddenly, turning in a quick circle and locating a nearby trash can. He grabbed his empty dish and Sam’s empty plate, ran over, and threw them out before running back to the table. “Can we go ride the Phoenix again?”

Dean clapped his hands together and got to his feet. “Let’s go!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sam grabbed the backpack and pulled out a pack of WetOnes. “Wipe your hands, they’re all sticky.”

Dean didn’t bother trying _not_ to roll his eyes.

“Can we do hands up the whole time?” Liam asked, bouncing on his toes as he wiped his hands clean. “Please?”

Sam whistled and shook his head, shoving the wipes back in and stuffing the candied pecans in with them. “I don’t know, Liam. Are you sure we can do it?”

“Yes!” Liam smiled like the sun, blue eyes sparkling with delight.

“Well…” Sam threw the backpack over one shoulder. “I guess we’ll never know if we don’t try, huh?”

Liam nodded, laughing excitedly, and darted back to the trash can. He threw out the towelette and bolted for the Phoenix without so much as a backward glance.

Dean laughed, throwing his head back as he jogged to catch up with Liam, and for another moment, he was able to forget everything.

Ruby. Castiel. Heaven. Hell. Lucifer. Michael. The Apocalypse.

Everything.

He was able to forget fighting with Sam, able to forget the four days spent in silence, able to forget the lack of a resolution to the conflict, able to… actually enjoy himself and just be _happy_. There was a bright sun in the nearly cloudless sky, and a crisp, autumn breeze swept over the park, disappearing into the woods and mountain ranges. Children and adults alike were laughing and cheering and screaming, there were lights and colors and music, and the air was heavy with the aroma of almost every food he had ever loved.

Yeah. It was a good day.

It was a good day, and Dean Winchester was happy.

* * *

“Yes, sir, that’s correct.” Pause. “No, they seem content.” Pause. “Yes, I know.” Pause. “How am I supposed to force Sam Winchester to use his ability?” Pause. “They could kill the witches before Samhain is released.” Pause. “I can do that. I’ll need assistance.” Pause. “Because, if we can’t get Sam Winchester in front of Samhain, we will have to give him another target powerful enough to warrant the use of demon blood. Should he kill me, someone needs to oversee the rest of the mission.” Pause. “I think you overestimate his regard for Dean.” Pause. “He’s the Boy with the Demon Blood. What reason would he have to obey the Righteous Man?”

Pause. Pause. Pause.

“No, I do not think the boy is a problem.” Pause. “No, I did not hesitate.” Pause. “Sam Winchester is an abomination, and he has known the boy all of three months. Their bond isn’t strong enough to interfere with the plan.”

Pause. Pause. Pause.

“I am prepared to do whatever is necessary.” Pause. “Once again, no. I did not hesitate.” Pause. “If you doubt my competency, reassign me.” Pause. “I thought not.”

Pause. Pause. Pause.

“I see. I’ll handle it.”

Pause. Pause.

“Understood.”

Silence.

“Father…”

Sigh.

“How can this be the plan?”

**Author's Note:**

> Knoebels is my childhood amusement park. I grew up in Pennsylvania, and lots of people are crazy about Hershey Park, but it's got nothing on Knoebels. Also, I found the appropriate rank for the year Season 4 is set in, but this year (2018) the Phoenix was rated the number one wooden coaster in the world. It's my favorite ride of all time, which is funny, because I wouldn't even go on rollercoasters until I was fourteen because they scared me.


End file.
